Poetry Stories Novels & Stories

And when I finally cut them down, when I unwrap them inch by aching inch, they’ll crawl to my feet—bodies marked, minds blank—and beg for the next pattern. Because Shibari isn’t just rope. It’s ownership carved into flesh. And they wear my art like a second skin. Forever.

“Then what’s the point.” That made me pause. Because that question wasn’t even sarcastic. It was genuinely him trying to understand. So I sat up a little, book forgotten for the moment. “Poetry makes things deeper than plain boring words,” I said slowly, choosing it carefully. “It’s like asking why an art painting tells a story instead of just writing the story underneath it. It’s not just about information. It’s about feeling it.” He stared at me for a second. Then leaned forward slightly. “You don’t have to go all diplomatic,” he said. “Just say what you want to say.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “I did.”

Her words flowed effortlessly, painting a new story—the story of Theo and Mama Hazel, of nighttime adventures and endless dreams, of love that knew no bounds and a bond that transcended the ordinary. As she penned the final lines of the story, a sense of peace settled within Mama Hazel. The power of storytelling had once again worked its magic, not only in Theo's dreams but also in her own heart, reaffirming the timeless truth that the greatest stories are those written with love, shared with joy, and woven into the fabric of our lives.

Aside from Evelyn, everyone had had a few drinks, their faces flushed, clearly a little tipsy. No one knew who started it, but all of a sudden, the conversation shifted to ex-boyfriends. Some people doubled over with laughter. Others had tears in their eyes. A few stories were so ridiculous that Sophie could barely breathe from laughing. She nudged the only sober person next to her. "Evelyn, what about you?" For a moment, Evelyn's expression went blank. Unbidden, memories surfaced in her mind.

His hand cupped my face, warm and certain, and for a heartbeat, everything else disappeared. When we finally parted, I could still feel the ghost of his lips on mine a promise, a memory, a beginning. I looked down at the page. The ink had barely touched it, but it didn’t matter. For once, I didn’t need to write every detail. The story had already found its ending not in words, but in the spaces between them. And as Ethan’s fingers tightened gently around mine, I realized that sometimes, the truest stories don’t need to be told. They just need to be lived.

I have been married to Paolo for five years now, but never did he give me flowers or cake or anything on our anniversary. Just problems. We are poor, well not something like the poorest of the poor, but we are poor. There were months when we couldn’t pay our electric bills, water bills, and any other bills that we have to pay. And now, Paolo gambled our residence house and lot, leaving us both homeless. Fuck life. So we had to ask for help from his family. And I have to find a job that pays well.

TABLE OF CONTENTS Prologue CHAPTER ONE – ROAD TO RIYA CHAPTER TWO – APEX PREDATOR CHAPTER THREE – HUNTING PARTY CHAPTER FOUR – TRAPPED CHAPTER FIVE – CAPITAL’S TRUTH Bonus story  A BEAUTIFUL DAY TO DIE YOUNG * CHAPTER ONE – THE INVITE TO DEATH * CHAPTER TWO – BAD FRIENDS, BAD * CHAPTER THREE – CRUMBLING FLESH OF CHILDREN  THE BIRTH OF ERIC KANE  BLOODY METELE  WRONG TURN  MYSTERIES OF FATE  DOCTOR BROWN  LATE KATE FOSTER You are about to journey through a story or should I say stories of suspense and survival. The story of Roxanne, Eric Kane,,, Ariana, Thieves, and A Christian and an Atheist

Hi, I will not say much. This is an erotic story that contains a mom/aunt/son. As you know, I write about Aunt/Mom’s stories. Please support me by reading my other stories, too. Also, you can support me on my P*****n: p*****n.com/laxu00 Story starts

It's soft, lingering, and full of every tomorrow still ahead of us. My father’s blessing still warms my chest like a steady flame. The kingdom is steadier and more hopeful than it has been in years. And here, in the firelight, with the woman I love more than anything and the future we have already begun creating, I know without any doubt that we have found our real fairy tale. Not the flawless, polished version from childhood storybooks, but the honest, passionate, sometimes messy one that chose to step bravely out of the shadows and into the full, bright light of day.

Tyler, quieter but built solid with those broad shoulders that tensed up when he got excited, and Alex, the storyteller who could turn any boring moment into something wild with his tales. We kicked off the night with a standard round of Never Have I Ever, sipping shots whenever someone hit a truth we had lived, but after a few cycles and the alcohol hitting harder, Sarah suggested flipping it to what she called the Extreme Edition, where instead of drinking for the things you had done, you stripped off a piece of clothing, and that idea got everyone nodding and grinning because the vibe was already charged with that tipsy flirtation. Clothes started coming off pretty fast after that, shirts